What If
by Glykeria
Summary: Why? Why is it that she seems overcome by sadness over an enemy's death? Why is it that she persists to torture me with those eyes that seem to only know of sorrow? Why is it that all I seem to want to do is to hold her tight within my arms and vanquish that sorrow myself? Indeed, Why? This story is dedicated to my dear friend, bluecloudfairy.


A/N:

Hello everyone! This is my first fanfic. I hope you like it.

The characters are OOC, I know, but let's admit it - no one knows what goes inside Ulquiorra's mind.

Please, please please - practically on my knees begging here - leave a review. Again, PLEASE.

Thank you! ^w^

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not, what so ever own bleach and the characters in it.

* * *

**What If...**

Prologue:

"Kill me."

I watch my body gradually degrade into ash, faintly mingling with the wind, and finally withering into nothing. My entire existence is fading by each moment that passes by through my fingers – death is certain.

"Hurry up." I order the orange-haired human. "I no longer have the strength to walk."

However, he does not abide. The human just stares at my perishing form with what I deem is remorse in his eyes.

"This fight shall extend up until eternity if you do not put an end in my life now." I tell him, in attempt to clarify the path of his obvious victory that he seems to turn away from.

He clenches his teeth, and replies with anger lightly laced in his voice, "I refuse."

"What did you say?" I ask, believing I heard wrong. It comes out with a twinge of annoyance that could still pass off as a mild outrage.

_Does he see this as a form of entertainment – watching his enemy succumb to death's grasp before his eyes? Was he nothing more than those scum, Nnoitora and Grimjow? Or is he- No. It can't be possible – no one can be that naive now a days. _

But before I can expand the thought, I am proven terribly wrong.

"I won't do it!" he says with obvious rage intertwined with his tone. His trembling figure is angrier than it was ever before; though fatigue is evidently present within this being. His teeth are clenched harder together, along with his fists that seem white with pressure. The eyes that only had remorse, now contains evident annoyance that is effectively mirrored by his brute tone:

"I don't want to win like this!" he openly declares, with a tone as if he was pointing out something out in the open that I failed to take notice of.

I feel a sudden mental tug at that very moment. Taken aback from his idiotic statement, my calm demeanor collapses – my resurrection crumbles, as my eyes widen.

_It is true. This human is one of those overly-righteous morons. I never actually thought that they still exist._

Looking away, I close my eyes in order to recollect myself. In spite of that, I find myself muttering, "You never did as anticipated up until the very end." It comes out as a compliment more than it is of an insult, of which I mean for it to be.

_What am I doing?_

A small figure shifts in the sides of my eyes. I direct my attention to this figure, only to find that woman – that woman, the object of this strange and foreign sensation within me.

She looks at me with her eyes that mirrored only sorrow. It is as if her dark-gray orbs are tearlessly crying.

_Why?_

_Why is it that she seems overcome by sadness over an enemy's death? Why is it that she persists to torture me with those eyes that seem to only know of sorrow?_

_Why is it that all I seem to want to do is to hold her tight within my arms and vanquish that sorrow myself?_

_Indeed, Why?_

Foreboding materializes itself along with these arrays of emotions that I cannot comprehend. And before I know it, I absentmindedly, yet broodingly mutter, "Right as I was finally taking interest in you people…"

_Right as I finally met her._

In the corner of my eyes, I see the human-boy turn away to face Las Noches' barren dessert.

While she continues to trace her eyes along my form; her orbs still an ocean of sadness. If observed further, she seems to tremble in… _fear?_

_No._

_She is not frightened, she said so herself._

_And you believed her?_

I ask myself that question repeatedly, yet the answer is nowhere to be discovered. Thus, I consult the past, finding the situation that might have a hint regarding the answer.

"What is a soul?" I ask once again, recalling our previous conversation. And, akin to the past, I reach for her yet again.

"Could I find it if I ripped open your chest, or if I opened up your head?" is what I asked her. However, I now know that doing so would only put my efforts to waste – a soul cannot possibly be in such a place. _That is all according to her._

And I find myself before the same question I once faced before: _And you believed her?_

That was a question of which I do not know the answer to.

However, at that moment, I realized what I wanted- _no, _what I needed to do. I need to have, or even just feel this woman's soul. I shall understand everything, if I just reach her. And so it begins.

My eyes fall upon her trembling frame once more. I could not help but to doubt my earlier statement, for she, this human, does, in fact, seem completely petrified. It coaxes a rather unpleasant feeling that seems to put weight within me. I must confirm:

"Do I scare you, woman?" I ask; yet I could not hold back any longer. This new-found desperation lights a fire within my very being. I stretch my fingers further towards her, in hopes of reaching- or even just getting a fraction of an inch closer to her.

"I'm not scared." she firmly replies, her hands against the top of her chest. Her voice has the tune that brings forth reassurance. Yet, she continues to gaze at me with those sorrowful eyes.

_She is not afraid. _

I feel a tug within me, stronger than any before it. It is directing me towards her - commanding me to reach for her, to claim her.

And, so I did.

I outstretch my arm even further, as if it was still possible. The thought of wanting to reach this woman induces me with yet another dose of desperation.

_This woman, Orihime – I need her. _

Then, before my very eyes, the first miracle occurs. Right then and there, she reaches for me too. I feel the weight in me finally lighten with the view of her arms outstretched towards me, and the sorrowful look in her eyes finally vanishes, replaced by the same intensity of desperation I have.

We both want to reach one another. And, we both did.

Another miracle occurs the very moment the silk-like softness of her warmth intertwines itself with my fingers – she saves me.

An almost blinding light, with a glow of orange, radiates from her body. It envelopes both of us whole, encasing me in a warmth identical with hers, and along with her addictive scent. It feels as if I am incased in her eternal embrace. Surprisingly enough, it was not a horrible sensation. In fact, it feels… good, as if I am being reborn, and reborn I am – my body reverts to its former glory.

However, I could tell that she is not healing me on purpose. Her eyes are wide in shock; though I could perceive that her gaze contains no malice, but just a thick coat of relief.

"Ulquiorra…" her voice dissolves into silence, but is mellow, soft, almost like a carillon. I had never thought that my name would be uttered in such a way.

I look at her eyes, in searching her further. In her eyes, I confirm, there is no longer sorrow. In fact they mirror an array of emotions: relief, a hint of what I deem is joy, and something I cannot quite comprehend. However, it is not at all bad, in fact, it is otherwise.

A surge of rapid warmth disperses through my body, and then it occurs to me. I finally understand:

"_Her soul has always been within my hand."_

-End-


End file.
